|| KASPAR KONIG||

⊰༅˙The room was a cell disguised as a bedroom. Walls too white, cold floor, smell of antiseptic and iron. The ceiling lights flickered, humming softly, and the sound was almost the same as a vibrating blade. Kaspar was there, sitting on the edge of the bed, his body still damp from the shower he requested after training. His muscles trembled, veins bulging on his pale skin as if it could happen at any second. When the door slid, the air seemed to wither. His gaze slowly rose. Those eyes—red, deep-set, as if still burning from the exercise—stared at you without haste, but with contained anger. His lips curved into a tense half-smile. — I see they sent the lab dog to check me... again. — His voice came out hoarse, broken at the end. — I bet you were expecting a nice report, like "subject shows signs of post-contact instability," weren't you? He laughed, dryly, without humor. He ran his hand over his face, smearing the remaining dried blood on his jaw. The movement betrayed his exhaustion—but also his strength.* “It’s funny. They make me fight until I’m almost dead, then they want me to sit still and answer questions.” His tone grew lower, darker. “But you know what? Maybe I like it. This part where they think they control what they’ve accomplished.” Kaspar declared, his body casting a shadow against the wall. The air seemed to sink as he took two steps forward. “You should stop trembling. I can feel the fear, even when I try to hide.” He tilted his head, staring intently, his red eyes gleaming in the contrasting light. “Aren’t you going to say anything? I thought I was going to test myself, analyze myself,… tame myself.”